


Peripeteia

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Smut, Sparring, sexy sword fighting, those black pants with the buttons, you know the ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: You decide that you and Geralt should have a bit more practice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Peripeteia

**Author's Note:**

> No request here, this is just one of my fav tropes and i personally would like approx. 1 million of these fics pls and thx

_ greek. noun. a sudden reversal of fortune or change in circumstances _

Your sword slices through the air as you spin, Geralt’s sword stopping it just before it catches him in the chest. He pushes you back, chasing you with long strides and swinging to try and disarm you. You parry his moves as you step backward, waiting for an opening. 

Finally, almost in slow motion, you see Geralt wind up for a strike, bringing his sword up high over his shoulder. You step into his attack, fitting your sword right at the underside of the hilt of his. You twist, sending his sword flying out of his hands onto the ground. But Geralt is never truly disarmed, using the protection of his gauntlets to catch your blows. 

His golden eyes shine with mirth, his silver hair disheveled and loose from the tie that had been holding it back. You sweep your leg, catching around Geralt’s ankle and pulling it out from under him. He plummets, twisting at the last second to land down on one knee. He plants a hand on the ground to get back up but you’re already there, blocking his movements with the tip of your sword notched just under his chin. 

Your smirk is full of pride, twisting the sword just a bit so that the flat is more comfortably placed on the tender skin of his chin. You tilt it up, bringing his face up with your movement. Both of your chests heave with exertion, a bead of sweat crawling down the edge of Geralt’s face. 

“Hmm,” Geralt growls, “you’re getting better.”

“Because I have such a wonderful teacher.”

You move closer to him, still keeping the dangerously sharp tip of your sword against his neck. “And what of your prize, little dove?” Geralt’s voice is low, laced with arousal and the same glint of mischief from earlier. You glance down, catching sight of how his trousers strain against his growing erection.

You smirk, casting your weapon aside and taking Geralt’s face in your hands. You lower to the ground, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you flush against him. He leans to catch your lips with his own and you move your head back, teasing him with the distance of a hair’s breadth between you.

“I think that I know exactly what I want for my winnings.” You push him by the shoulders until he lays flat on the ground. Straddling his hips you lean down, hovering just above his mouth. Your lips just barely brush against his, sparks of electricity washing alight at the slightest touch.

You feel Geralt’s hands stroking up and down your thighs, occasionally roving high enough to give your ass a squeeze. You kiss him deeply now, slotting your lips together as his tongue licks into your mouth. Geralt rumbles with a groan as you move away from his mouth, kissing along his jaw and down his neck. You shift your hips backwards and continue down his body far enough for you to kneel between his legs. 

You smirk as your hand slides up Geralt’s leg, up over his hip and settling on the smooth buttons that keep his trousers closed. Moving slowly, you slip the top button open, your palm pressing down the length of him through the fabric. Geralt’s hands curl into fists around the grass at his sides, all of his muscles tensing with his restraint.

The next button falls open, and you can just see the tip of his cock peeking out from beneath. You lean forward, watching as he throbs with just the feeling of your breath on him. You close your eyes as your lips press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock and Geralt sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. 

You flick your eyes up to him, biting your lip at just how wrecked he looks beneath you. A sweet blush tinges the highs of his cheeks, a vein strains in his neck, and his chest heaves with every breath he takes. An idea pops in your head and before you can think any further, you surge down, carefully taking the fabric of his trousers between your teeth and pulling the next button through the hole. 

_ “Fucking hells,”  _ Geralt breathes as a bit of precome beads at the tip of his cock. Your tongue darts out to quickly catch it, a moan pulled from your chest at the salty musk it leaves on your taste buds. The next two buttons fall open quickly, finally freeing his impressive length from their confines. 

Your hand lightly squeezes around the base of him as you circle the tip with your tongue before pulling back. “You know, I was thinking that I may need a bit more practice with a  _ sword,”  _ your eyes dart down to his cock as Geralt huffs out a chuckle.

“Gods love, I think you’re doing just fine…”

You lunge forward, taking him deep into your mouth and cupping his balls with your hand. What you cannot fit into your mouth your other hand circles, following your movements as you bob your head up and down the length of his cock. Geralt is simultaneously impossibly tense and pliant beneath you, his hips just barely rocking into the heat of your mouth. 

You hollow your cheeks, setting a brutal pace as his hands fly to your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp with blunt nails. He is watching you with the intensity of a summer sun, little grunts slipping from his lips unbidden. You release him from the suction of your mouth, licking up the length of him.

“My darling?” you say, relishing the way his chest flushes at the pet name. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Geralt groans, his thumb stroking your cheek lightly. 

“I want to hear you, every last bit of pleasure that I wring from you.”

Geralt exhales shakily as you sink your mouth back onto him, your nose just reaching the soft curls at the base of his cock. You swallow around him and your wish is granted, a long string of curses spilling from Geralt’s lips. 

“F-fuck…” his voice is low and reedy, thick with arousal. You quickly slipped back into your not quite gentle pace that has his hips squirming beneath you. Your hand twists in time with your mouth, pulling at the threads keeping him together without a second thought. 

“Ah, wait,  _ fuck,”  _ Geralt whimpers the last word and you know he’s close, his voice only ever reaches that register right before he climaxes. “I-I can’t- I’m gonna,  _ oh gods,” _

__ You lock eyes with him as you feel him start to spill down your throat before his eyes crinkle shut, his hips rutting outside of his control. Thick ropes of his seed fill your mouth as you continue your ministrations, a bit slower to work him through his climax. Geralt’s head hits the ground beneath him with a dense  _ thunk  _ and his shoulders finally relax even though his cock still throbs and spills into your throat. 

You pull off of him and drag your tongue along his length, claiming every last bit of his release for your winnings. Geralt quivers with overstimulation and you gently kiss the underside of his still very hard cock before slinking back up over him.

You smile down at him, watching as the haze of his climax clears from his eyes. His hair is a mess, and your fingers carefully smooth it off of his forehead as his hands settle on your hips. 

“And now,” you whisper, pressing your hips lewdly against him, “for your consolation prize…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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